All I Want For Christmas
by Miss Nihilist
Summary: Dave's goal for Christmas is simple. Get a certain shouty troll to kiss him using mistletoe and his love of clichés. Too bad that Karkat couldn't be less interested if he tried.


Your name is Karkat Vantas, and you are definitely _not_ jealous. You don't even know the meaning of the word. 'Jealous'? What is this foreign emotion of which you are just now hearing about for the very first time in your life? You don't know, because you've never felt it, and you are still not feeling when you see Jade and Dave kissing deeply.

You don't know why you're even watching, just that you should probably stop before you shatter the glass in your hand with the intense pressure you're gripping it with. Jealousy is not even present at the current moment. It has kindly fucked off, and you don't care. You don't care you don't care you _still_ don't care as the kiss continues to drag on and _on_ , and you will continue to not care until the universe makes it so.

Why you're choosing to take it personally is beyond you. Dave certainly doesn't see it that way. He and Jade part, and are met with a chorus of appreciative cheers from their surrounding friends. He's often told you that Jade is like a little sister to him, but with mistletoe mounted to his antler-headpiece, Dave is pulling out all the stops this year. No exceptions.

Just ten minutes earlier, he had Dirk's tongue down his throat in a rather aggressive kiss that made something warm tighten in your gut and you had to look away. They're brothers, but neither of them seemed to care. " _Rules are rules."_ Dirk had said with a shrug when Dave got done kissing Jake and turned to face him. That kiss was short - just a peck and a blushing English man.

You hadn't liked that one either, but you would take it any day over the fucking _sounds_ Dave had made when Dirk gripped his thigh. You don't think that he had ever been kissed so fiercely in his life, and that emotion - the one you're not feeling - is quick to remind you how much you wish that you had been the one coaxing those sounds from him.

"Karkat." Dave snaps his fingers in your face, finally earning your attention after what appears to be several attempts, if the amused grin on his face is any indication. Your blood runs cold. You look up and, yep, there's that mistletoe, dangling above you threateningly. "You're the only person who hasn't had the honor." He chuckles, flicking the little plant dangling by a string. You decide that mistletoe is the worst thing ever, and that your romcoms have lied to you about its ability to perform miracles.

"And it's going to stay that way." You say firmly, crossing your arms. You've watched Dave during this entire Christmas Eve-Eve party, though. He's right. You are the only one. It's a small get together, just twenty of you. But Dave meant what he said. Even Equius, as unpleasant as the kiss must have been for both of them, had gotten kissed.

But you absolutely refuse.

So what if you've been crushing on Dave since eighth grade and have been silently begging him to come over here throughout the entirety of this party? You know that the kiss won't mean anything. You're some sort of tally in his head, and you won't be resorting to that just to get some lousy, meaningless kiss.

Dave's expression doesn't change, and it makes your blood boil. He's watching you like you're the cutest thing - thinking that you're getting out of here without kissing him. You hold no delusions - your friends are definitely big enough assholes to pin you to the ground, kicking and screaming, in order to accomplish this. You are so royally fucked. "Not even a peck?" He asks, wriggling his eyebrows suggestively above his shades. You don't reply, and he rolls his head, his way of letting you know that he just rolled his eyes since, well, you can't actually _see_ his eyes.

"Oh, c'mon." Dave sighs, exasperated. "Even John kissed me!" He gestures across the room towards his friend, and the brunet flushes at the memory. "He's basically the embodiment of straight, but you know what, Karkat? We worked through our differences and set our mutual unattraction aside in order to partake in a beloved holiday tradition. Santa weeped at the pure bromance and Christmas spirit we displayed. I'm pretty sure that it gave, like, at least five angels their wings. So, what do you say?" He offers you his hand, smiling in a way that makes your heart skip a beat despite yourself. You're a senior in highschool now. Why can't you shake a stupid crush on some idiot?

You purse your lips, shaking your head to reaffirm your earlier statement. "As… tempting as it sounds, I think I'll pass." You say, crossing your arms. "Trolls don't use your typical human tradition of 'mistletoe'." You explain. "Rather, we hang an offering brought home by our lusus and once caught under it, we exchange sincere, heartfelt compliments about each other to form tighter, and strictly _platonic_ , bonds."

Dave crinkles his nose in disgust, digesting this information. "So, if your crab parent thing nailed a dead rat to the ceiling, _then_ you'd kiss me?" He asks, baffled.

"No." You shake your head. For a moment, Dave looks relieved, and then you continue. "I would tell you that your shoes are very nice and go well with your jeans." You pat his shoulder with sarcastic comfort. Behind him, you see Kanaya open her mouth to object to your compliment, but you silence her with a glare sharp enough to split steel. She knows how you feel about Dave, so she respectfully stays out of it.

He groans, apparently oblivious to the little exchange you just had with Kanaya. "Karkat, our species have been mingling cultures for _thousands_ of years. Some trolls don't even _have_ a lusus anymore! Can't you put the technicalities aside for one night and _kiss me_?" Dave throws his hands up in the air, apparently sick of your shit.

Odd. He had kept his patience with John for the entire twenty minutes it took to convince the guy to kiss him. You wonder what's different now. Maybe his patience is just thinning, since the night as worn on and _on_. At least, it has for you. And yes, that excuse satisfies you at least minimally. It's easier than considering… other motives. You pause, hesitating, but your answer is the same. "No. And furthermore," you continue before Dave can interject, " _this_." You reach up and, without breaking eye-contact, pull the mistletoe free from its cord and shove it into your mouth.

Dave can do nothing but look on, flabbergasted, as your predator teeth reduce the plastic plant to shreds within seconds. You're just lucky that it was hollow. Disgusted, you cringe and spit the pieces out all over the floor next to you. You never want to have something that foul in your mouth again. But it was worth it. Problem solved. Right?

Wrong.

Now it's your turn to be shocked, and you are when you turn back to Dave, only to see him pull a spare mistletoe from his bulging pocket and tie it in place. "I have a whole pocket full." He says smugly. "I can do this all night if you want, Karkat."

You officially hate him.

Off to the side, Roxy groans. "Just kiss him!" She insists, waving her hands in a shooing motion. "You don't have to live with him. I do, and I don't want to have to listen to his bitching for the next month if this doesn't happen." Dave's sister runs a hand through her hair, sounding startlingly sober despite the few drinks she's had pushed on her. Not that she resisted all the much. She's not alcoholic anymore, sure, but that doesn't mean that she can't enjoy a particularly fine wine to celebrate the holidays.

You chew on your bottom lip, suddenly nervous as you consider your options. You didn't notice until Roxy spoke up, but the room has gone deathly quiet as everyone watches you and Dave with either excitement, anticipation, exasperation, or some weird combination of them all.

You don't see why it matters, and you cling to that thought. It doesn't matter, it doesn't matter, it doesn't matter, and you'll repeat it for years if that's what it takes to believe it.

Sighing, you run a hand through your hair, careful to avoid your nubby horns. Yet another reminder of your flawed existence. Goody. "Fine." You say after a moment, not making eye-contact with Dave. "If it'll make you fucking shut up already, and if it means that I can go home, then you can-"

You're cut off suddenly as Dave's already thinning patience finally snaps. "Shut up." He murmurs, cupping your cheek, and you go to retaliate despite the way the contact makes you flush, but before you can, his other hand drops to your waist, yanking you close and you _melt._ His lips against yours are nothing like you imagined, but they're better in a way. You've wanted this for so _long_ , and you think that you make it obvious with the ferocity in which you kiss him back.

Dave grunts in surprise as you push your tongue into his mouth, your hands tugging at his white-blond hair until you find the right amount of force to make him _moan._ You love the sounds you can coax from Dave, and it turns into something of a possessive kiss as jealousy viciously reminds you of the way _Dirk_ kissed him. Dave. Even though he's _yours_. The feeling of possession is unfamiliar, but not entirely unwelcome as you let it guide your movements.

You forget about the audience as the kiss grows heated. You wonder how Dave feels - dominated by you, someone who barely comes up to his neck line, in a kiss that he initiated. You then decide that you don't care, because he isn't pulling away. Dave is kissing back with a _need_ , and you want nothing more than to satisfy it.

His hands push up the hem off your obnoxious Christmas sweater, tracing your swimsuit line above your waist, and you shiver, holding in pleased noises to stay on top of the kiss. You're so close to him, your teeth clanking awkwardly against his occasionally with how hard you're pressing in order to get closer still. The kiss is somehow satisfying even as it stokes your passions higher, the places he's touching burning while the rest of you is cold with desire, and you're close but _not close enough._ The push and pull is incredible, leaving you caught off guard and _wanting_ , but wanting what, you aren't sure.

Finally, you pull away, breathing hard. The first thing you do is yank his shades off. Dave looks at you with wide eyes, surprised by your behavior but not at all disappointed if the flash of lust in his gaze is anything to go by. Your friends look on, stunned into silence. Good. You don't want anyone interrupting. You want them all to know that you'll be doing the kissing from now on when it comes to Dave.

You reach up and, again, yank the mistletoe away, tossing it to the side. "But…" Dave starts to protest, until he sees the way you're looking at him and his words die off. He licks his lips, and your gaze shoots down to watch him. It shouldn't be so attractive. "How long?" He asks quietly.

You take a moment to process the question. "Since eighth grade. The day you tried confessing to John and I realized that I was glad he said no." You admit, voice just as low. You pause, and for a moment, you understand how silence can be deafening. "And you?" You ask, brushing his bangs to the side absentmindedly.

Dave smiles a little. "Longer." He pulls you closer to breathe the word against your lips. "I just didn't want to admit it. This was… at least Plan J to get a kiss without being obvious." You're close enough to feel his lips move as he forms the words, and your heartbeat spikes, a shiver running down your spine.

The next kiss is a lot slower than the first. There's no desperation, just slow, pleasant ease as you press your soft curves against his hard edges and simply _enjoy it_. It's the kind of kiss that you could keep going for hours without it going anywhere, and you intend for it to last.

Behind you, Dirk sighs and turns to Rose (or is it Roxy?). "I guess we're going to need headphones tonight." He says dryly. You would turn to tell him off if he wasn't completely right. And also if Dave wasn't running a hand through your hair, smirking as he deepens the kiss. He doesn't say anything, but you can tell though his body movements what he means.

 _While we're at it, why not give the_ neighbors _a reason to wear thick ear protection?_ He asks.

It's a rhetorical question, but you answer by running a hand up his leg to rest on the inside of his thigh, tracing circles against him through the fabric of his jeans. His breath catches. You smirk. _I'm thinking the entire next state over._ You reply.

You're going to be busy for the next few hours.


End file.
